The closer they got to the surface of Pit No. 2, the more half-dead creatures there were.
The former miners’ stronghold, in particular, was now teeming with infected undead, resembling a purgatory on Earth.
A middle-aged man clad in armor, holding a Longsword, looked solemnly at the chaotic crowd ahead.
As he uttered two syllables infused with a sacred aura, a soft white light bloomed from him, dispersing the pernicious aura that filled the surroundings.
"The deceased should rest in peace."
With a slight bow, the man charged forward like a bolt of lightning, swinging his Longsword and felling one half-dead after another.
His Longsword was covered in rust and did not look sharp, yet when it cut into the half-dead, it sliced as smoothly as a hot knife through butter.
Nothing could withstand the path of his Longsword.
The white light radiating from him further suppressed the malevolent energy.
In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen half-dead were rendered completely immobile.
The man slowly sheathed his Longsword and turned to look at the few people he had just saved, placing a hand on his chest and bowing deeply.
"May the gods bless you."
The bystanders were dumbfounded. One of them stuttered, "Tha... Thank you!"
In Black City, aside from trustworthy relatives and friends, no one would rescue a complete stranger. The powerful seldom showed any kindness to the weak. So... where did this oddity come from?
"I’m looking for someone."
The man pulled out a crumpled scroll from his person, unfolding it to reveal the face of a young man.
"His name is Rein, sold here last year."
The few people shook their heads in confusion. "Don’t know him, never seen him."
"Is that so?" The man’s face showed disappointment. "I’ve disturbed you."
"Wait a moment." Out of the crowd, a little girl’s voice chimed in. "I remember there being someone called Rein in Pit No. 3, but it’s close to Pit No. 2 and underground... He might be dead by now."
"Oh!" The man’s eyes lit up. "Thank you."
With that, he turned and made his way toward Pit No. 3.
The little girl stood up, calling out urgently. "It’s very dangerous down there, do you have to go?"
"Yes," the man nodded. "I promised my friend that I would protect his son, and upholding promises is our code."
"But... but..." The little girl stammered. As the man walked further away, she called out loudly, "What’s your name?"
The man’s voice floated back on the wind.
"Let’s go," someone in the crowd whispered. "He must be a Holy Knight."
"A Holy Knight?" someone exclaimed in surprise. "The Moon Goddess has already fallen, are there still Holy Knights around?"
As Guardian Knights of the Goddess, the Holy Knights had followed Her in death when She fell.
A voice sounded. "Some believe that the Moon Goddess did not truly perish. They wander the world, searching for traces of the Goddess, looking for ways to revive her."
"It’s none of our business."
Ayala had taken Nana away. With the loss of two fighters, the team’s combat strength had diminished, but this was not a major issue for Carl. He only needed the others to lure the prey so he could personally strike to kill, mainly guarding against any presence lurking in the shadows. When it truly came time for action, even Knight Attendant Nana wasn’t much help, in truth. If the target was no match for him, having one or two more people would be useless. Ayala understood this, which was why she took Nana away; Nana’s contribution was insignificant.
However, only when they truly started moving did Carl sense something was off. His eyebrows subconsciously furrowed. Without Ayala, although Dana and the other three still followed his commands, things just didn’t feel as smooth. It was like there was now a barrier between them.
He had to admit that although Ayala was not strong, she possessed a kind of leadership that inspired trust. It was no wonder she could build up a force in such a short time, with others willingly following her commands. This was a skill Carl clearly did not possess.
An arrow drenched in Holy Water pierced the body of a half-dead.
White smoke immediately rose from the half-dead’s body as its dark energy flowed away, and its movements became sluggish and stiff.
Dana and the others shouted as they charged forward.
This routine was already familiar to them. With Holy Water to assist, harvesting half-dead creatures was all too easy. While others were reluctant to face the half-dead creatures, these enemies were their favorites.
Carl wielded his broad sword, slicing off an undead’s head.
Before he could collect the soul dust from the ground, Hausman suddenly roared ahead, prompting him to look up.
At the end of the street, a man with disheveled blond hair walked slowly toward them. The man carried a strange Longsword at his waist, stepping on the corpse of a half-dead as he looked their way, his facial features hidden beneath his scattered hair.
Hausman sneered upon hearing this. "Just because you say they’re yours, they’re yours?"
"Hausman," Dana halted her actions and spoke. "Be careful!"
Their group had five people, and the man was alone, yet he brazenly came to claim their spoils. He was either a madman or possessed extreme confidence.
The man turned the corpse over and pointed to its back. "This wound was left by me."
There indeed was a long, thin sword mark on the back of the corpse, sloping down from top to bottom, but it was not fatal.
"Even if it was, so what?" Hausman said with contempt. "We were the ones who killed it. That just means you’re not capable. Remember to be more decisive next time you strike!"
"Enough." Carl frowned and said. "Give him the body."
Ever since the blond man appeared, the Wolf Poison Breath Technique had been sending warnings. They were faint, but he was definitely a master. Better to avoid trouble if possible. It was just a corpse, after all.
Without waiting for Hausman to step back, the blond man nodded first and said. "Thanks for the reminder. I do indeed need to be more decisive when I act, and I won’t make this mistake again."
Carl’s heart skipped a beat.
Without time to cast a spell, he flicked his wrist, and three arrows had already shot out, heading straight for the blond man.
With a crisp sound, the three arrows all hit the ground simultaneously.
And in the blond man’s hands, a sword as sharp as a spike had appeared. It pierced Hausman’s chest with astonishing speed after slicing through the incoming arrows.
With a gentle push, the sword pierced through the heart and exited from the back.
"This time..." Gazing at Hausman, whose face was a picture of shock and whose life force was rapidly fading, the man’s lips parted into a radiant smile. "Was it decisive enough?"
Dana and the other two’s expressions changed drastically. The anger at seeing their companion killed instantly peaked, and they roared as they charged.
Seeing this, the blond man shook his head slightly, flicked his wrist, and Hausman’s corpse was flung aside. His figure followed closely, his slender sword flickering as afterimages emerged, swiftly enveloping them.
Here it comes! My favorite scene has arrived! Blood splatters! Limbs scatter! Despair and terror...
"CLANG! CLANG! CLATTER..."
Rapid clashing sounds erupted, sparks flying from metal on metal. The scene he had envisioned didn’t unfold. Instead, the blond man was forced to retreat continuously, landing lightly on his feet, sword in hand.
He looked at Carl, his face showing surprise. "I didn’t expect to find another master here."
Before his words faded, he attacked once more with his sword. He was much faster than before, and his swordplay grew even more vigorous.